Building Bridges
by MahoganEffie
Summary: I've seen your flag on the marble arch; love is not a victory march. It's a cold, and it's a broken hallelujah.


**Title: Building Bridges**

**Summary: I've seen your flag on the marble arch; love is not a victory march. It's a cold, and it's a broken hallelujah.**

**Rating: T**

**Author's Note: First of all: Thank you to everybody who's read/ reviewed my first upload for this fandom; I wasn't expecting such a warm welcome, though it's immensely appreciated. This story takes place after the whole 'Seal or Orichalcos' scenario, though it could be anywhere from five days to five weeks; I'll let you guys decide where you see it happening. I grew up with the 4Kids dub, so if any details aren't 100% in line with the other versions, then I do apologise. In the 4Kids dub, Mai didn't speak to Valon or Joey after she got her soul returned to her, as far as I can recall, so I'm going for this as a first-meeting kind of thing.**

**Song Lyrics: Come from 'Hallelujah' by Rufus Wainright. Yes, he wasn't the first, nor will he be the last, to sing it, but his has always been my favourite version. **

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><p>The sky, pitch black in hue, was graced with the ghostly beams of the circular moon; petite stars peeked through the inky shadows. The shadows of tall, bare, willow trees mingled eerily with those of the benches that had just been painted in a garish, green paint. One, a memorial bench for a Mister 'Lawrence Wilmshurst' was barely visible; its glittering, golden plaque virtually indistinguishable to the human eye. The black lamppost that stood proudly in the centre of the paved concrete shone a brilliant, blinding, white light over the small park, ghosting an eerie glow over the small flowerbeds and their newly-bloomed selections. An owl, perhaps tawny in colour, cooed meekly at the squirrel in the branch above its alcove in the tall oak tree. Snowflakes, intrinsic in their graceful design, floated melodically in the cool winter's breeze, as if hesitant to touch the harsh, worn concrete below. It was almost pretty, nearly beautiful to his gentle, hazel eyes; the same eyes that'd looked on, innocently, at the lush, beautiful grounds of the famed Duelist Kingdom. But now, due perhaps to his life, full of disappointments and tragedies, he only saw the evil in the circular prison of parkway gates. Their bars, painted black with anti-vandal paint, stood menacingly with their pointed spear-shaped ends; almost certain to fatally impale anybody unlucky enough to fall on them from a great height. There was the litter that lay strewn around the broken mishmash of stone and silica that the city officials had the brass to call a walkway; some of it had been there for months, not that he'd been counting or anything... Even the small pond that reminded him of the days when his parents were still together, and he could spend all the time in the world with his baby sister, was hidden by the overgrowth of reeds and moss.<p>

"Joey...?" Her tone betrayed her feelings, sounding angry and frightened, rather than conveying the curiosity she'd felt bubble up within her when she caught a glimpse of his mop of dirty-blonde hair. "Is that you?" she asked, walking towards him slowly, cautiously.

"Yeah," His voice held a hint of emotion, regret? No, just weariness and an intense desire to not have the conversation he felt was mere moments away. He waited, hands held stoically in his lap, and stayed silent she sat down beside him. She didn't say anything to start off a conversation either, content or just pretending to be, with the lack of communication between them; some things never changed. Minutes passed, spent blowing into their clenched double fists in order to ward off frostbite in their fingers.

"I guess that 'sorry' is kind of an understatement" she said, hoping that it hadn't come out as harshly as she thought it had. He scoffed, kicking the loose pieces of gravel beneath his feet. "Well, what do you want me to say?" she snapped, jumping on the defensive immediately, "That I was trapped, forced to do it? I'm not going to lie to you, Joey, I _chose _to join them." At his lack of response, she became angered; 'Why can't you just-"

"Just do what?" he interrupted, anger flashing in his, usually calm, eyes. "Tell you to get lost? Tell you that I hate you? Well, tough, Mai, I'm not gonna do any of that, because you'd just use it as an excuse to do something stupid like that again. There's no way that I'm gonna let you blame me for another one of your 'meltdowns', okay?"

"Obviously, it's not," she spat, jumping up from her seat as if scorched by the non-existent heat radiating up from it. "And what do you mean, 'meltdown'? I didn't exactly go crazy, you know, I was just-"

"Lonely, angry, afraid? Big whoop. We all feel down sometimes; we could'a helped you out, y'know?"

"Really?" she replied, her face softening until it reached the pitying smirk she used to give him when she regarded him as nothing more than some stupid, teenage idiot, "As if I _could_ have asked. You were all busy. School, duelling, your own lives got in the way. I can't blame you for that." Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, as she said the last part. Her eyes, half hidden by her mane of flaxen hair, were glassy with the glimmer of unshed tears.

"Then why did you?" he asked, standing up to meet her eyes for the first time since she'd held him as his soul was taken away by the Seal of Orichalcos. He watched, unflinching, as the first warm droplet of salty water fell down her rouge-tinted porcelain cheek. He laughed sharply, bitterly, as he saw her cover her face with her hands before turning her cheek. "You don't let people in, and that's why we can't always be there; you won't always let us be."

"I could try," she ventured, voice catching slightly, "I just don't know how."

"You're not the only one with a sob story," he said, trying to force her to become passionate about something, anything, again. He wanted to see a spark in her eyes, a snarl on her lips; just one, tiny hint that she was still alive inside. "You think you had it so damned hard growing up, Mai; at least you had both of your parents and your buckets of money-"

"Shut up!" she sobbed, blocking her ears with her hands and turning her back on him. "They died when I was ten," she stated soon after, having controlled her cries to the occasional whimper. "They'd gone out to some business function, and left me with my aunt, Alexa. It was mid-December, and the roads were frosty, but they still decided to drive home in time to tuck me into bed. As far as I know, some idiot driving a truck had been drinking too many beers and didn't see my parent's car."

"That's horrible," Joey said, both sympathetically and sheepishly. "How'd you deal with that?"

"Well," Mai scoffed, "My family were useless. When the policeman came in the morning to tell us about what had happened, Aunt Alexa collapsed on the porch in a sobbing mess. I, _I, _was the one who had to deal with the curious glances from the neighbours and tell them that my parents were dead. Not _one _member of my family came up to comfort me when I cried, Joey; how is that fair? How is that _easy?_" She spun around to meet his eyes again, and was surprised to see his eyes were also glassy. "I'm not saying that you shouldn't be bitter about your own childhood, but money can't make you happy, Joey. It can buy houses, cars, companies, and countries; but it can't buy you happiness. Believe me, I've tried."

"Maybe you should try something else." He said, wrapping his arms around her. At first she was startled; after all, nobody had hugged her with such warmth since she'd ran into her father's arms, aged nine, after he'd returned from a week-long business trip. But this was a different kind of affection; it was tentative, gentle, and non-assuming. She knew that she could hug him back, and he'd take it as a sign that she was ready to attempt to create something with him; a first foray into what she should have had as a young child; what they _both _should have had: an unconditional friend. But she could also sense that he'd understand if she didn't return the embrace; he'd know that she thought it too soon, too early. But she _didn't _think it was too soon; over a decade without affection had damaged her, and she knew that they would never fully recover from the traumas they'd both endured at such a young age. What she did know, however, and had done since he first pulled her close to him, that there was nowhere she'd rather be than in his warm, accepting arms. They were both flawed, and she didn't know what the warm sensation in her heart was, _but_, she thought, wrapping her arms around his torso, _I need him._

_We need each other. _

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><p>'<em>Maybe there's a God above, and all I ever learned from love was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you.<em>

_And it's not a cry you can hear at night; it's not somebody who's seen the light._

_It's a cold, and it's a broken hallelujah.'_

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><p><strong>AN2: Please review! <strong>


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